Bra-less and Lawless


Bra-less and lawless
That’s what I am
I solved the problem of my poverty creatively
That’s code-speak for ‘illegally’

Because prostitution
Isn’t recognized by the institution
Ironically, it’s the same men who rule the world
Who pay money to have sex with girls

I’ve jerked off CEOs of international companies
Wildly successful ones that you might support everyday
In our inevitable, consumeristic way                                                                                           Like common street pimps, the government and corporate thugs take the money they want, leaving the rest of us just enough to stay alive so that we keep making them rich off our blood, sweat and tears all the years of our lives                                                           We break our backs while their bank accounts grow fat collecting tax

Sometimes I break the law                                                                                                        When I was a sex-worker, I limboed around the law by making a living without paying taxes on my wages, unless you count the immeasurable tax of physical and psychological trauma, which like a war within me rages

Sex work was an avenue to do what I could to improve my reality
With a heart of gold: I did it without hurting others, young or old
I even donated some of my hard-won earnings to charity
Robin Hood is a hero to me

Sometimes I let it all hang out and go bra-less
I am a woman in a man’s world (though we’re fighting for our human rights!)
Taking my bra off feels like exhaling, ‘Yes I am!’

Letting my breasts fall forward to where they naturally lay
Feels like the first time I did sex work and got paid
I could finally afford to buy food instead of scavenging through the trash,                         no more would I dine on the stale leftovers of rats
All I had to do was survive an hour behind closed doors with an asshole rapist                   it was like any other day, except that I got paid a livable wage

Poverty feels like an uncomfortable bra
That is two sizes too small
It cuts into you and suffocates you
Until there is only one thing left to do, if you can
Break free

I’m not saying that everyone with financial difficulty should find employment through illegal activity, although that seems to be the only option at times
I’m saying that feeling comfortable
In your body, your mind and your life
Is something worth striving for
I hope you feel comfortable in some way every day

Freeing myself from poverty was not quick or easy,                                                      Although the lucrativeness of sex work at first made me believe it would be.      Sustainable change takes time                                                                                                         In the long run, it took a lot of hard, unpaid effort educating myself to reach a place of true comfort; for austere years I lived without many things I wanted because most of all, I wanted to be free                                                                                                                                I wouldn’t change my journey for anything                                                                                    I am grateful for all that I learned, the profound ways that I healed spiritually and am healing still, the people I met, the goals I accomplished, the places I’ve lived and…

how good it feels to finally come home to myself, to my heart and my body                     The journey isn’t over, but I know that whatever the future brings, I am ready

…and for the moment, bra-less

Safe Space

I currently work in a high-pressure, male-dominated profession
This old school boys club is rough and tumble
Giant egos clash and bash one another
I try to stay below the fray
But they smash me anyway
They don’t care who they hurt
As long as they puff themselves up bigger and louder than all within earshot of their tantrum

I don’t buy into their bullshit
I want to pop their over-inflated egos with my sharp sewing needle
But I keep quiet, for my own safety and sanity
I’ve learned to keep my head down and keep moving forward,
Because I have better things to do than try to teach grown men how to act
They don’t know how to act and I’m not their mama

Despite my best efforts to keep calm, I get stressed out

when my narcissistic, masculine bosses maliciously razz me
They are too afraid to admit that they are afraid
They are too blinded by their vanity to see that fear is the motivator
Behind the furious spinning of their transparent webs of false perfection                                                  The only prey they catch is themselves
I used to be a black widow spider, I know their game
At least I know that I am afraid of imperfection, I don’t play

I also know that I will never be perfect, and I accept that as part of being human

Who are we fooling when we try to act like we are anything other than human?

What brings me peace in the midst of the psychological violence of the workday
Is that no matter how tense and dramatic the guys act, as long as we are at work
I will never have to see them naked, nor will they get to watch me undress
I will never have to please them sexually, talk dirty, or stick their dick in me anywhere

They do not know that I know what they want behind closed doors
They’d never suspect that I am a former sex-worker
Remembering my whore-rrific past soothes me in the pressure cooker of my present job

No matter how bad it gets, it can’t get worse than what I’ve already been through, right?

Special message of respect for the current working girls: I love you and feel a kinship to you stronger than I will ever feel for the over-privileged pricks who are my co-workers now. No matter how far up the career ladder I climb, I will always be by your side as your sister in heart and soul.

With a prayer for serenity and safety to all.

Dance with the Devil

I’ve met the Devil plenty of times
He’s a man with a drink in his hand, asking for mine
He’ll buy me a drink and drop a few dimes
But in the end, he’s just another waste of my time

I’ve seen the Devil at close range
I feel his eyes on me; he looks at me strange
When I hesitate to perform his every wish
(Whether or not I know what his wish is)

At first I make him happier than he’s ever felt before
Until I leave his heart panting on the floor
I survive with him til I remember how much I’d thrive without him

Like anesthesia, my amnesia wears off eventually

And when it does it’s like I wake up in the middle of surgery

Open heart in a bloody mess, I struggle to pick myself up and get dressed

Headed for the horizon, under duress, yet determined and strong, I sing my single song

Until I meet my sacred Devil again

And he gives me another chance to burn, another opportunity to learn

How many times must I learn how to get out of a toxic relationship?

Please, let this be the last time

The key lies in prevention, so I laid down a one simple rule:

Never be alone with a man behind closed doors, especially when alcohol is involved

The Devil likes to dance naked with me
His dick points at me like a compass needle
And I’m due-North, though I’d like to head South
His dick feels like a poison mushroom in my mouth
I want to spit it out, and shout:

Devil be gone- we’ve been dancing too long!
My feet hurt and they’re caked with dirt
Haven’t we made each other suffer enough?
Surely, your attachment to me feels rough
When I rip myself away

I’ve ripped myself away from the Devil
Plenty and plenty of times
I hope that I can quit him for life
You are my witness by reading this rhyme

Pretty Man

He is looking
So good looking
Did you see his physique?
Built like a tiger
Did you hear him speak?
He has a face
That I like to see
I want to feel him stand near me
Touch his skin and his hair-
That fountain of ebony
Pouring lavishly from his head
I want to kiss his face
Lose myself in his embrace
But I have felt this way before
So I know better than to knock on his door
Without pausing to remember
How often the ones who I adore
Are later the same ones who I abhor
Though I long to swim in the depths of his eyes
And his magnetism is a difficult force to defy
Though I flutter near him
I will enjoy his flame
From a healthy distance
And rest in my resistance
I know too well
The trouble on the other side of the kiss
I have already been burnt enough in my life
It is better to imagine the bliss
But I say again:
He is pretty
So pretty



In my youth I was broke and my spirit was also broken
The latter was the deeper poverty
With the inherent beauty of youth on my side
It was easy to fall down the rabbit-hole of craigslist
If you catch my gist
If you don’t, I’ll spell it out explicitly:

I sold my body to pay for basic needs: rent and food to eat
Before that, I went hungry and scavenged from trash
I didn’t feel great finishing the leftovers of rats
So when an ad asked for a young, open-minded, nice girl
To pose for photos, how could I say no?
The more ads I responded to, the more money I made
But also the more I got raped
Thinking of it, I dissociate

I gave sensual massages
I became Lola, Cindy, Ashley, and more
These were my names as a whore
I was marketed as a wholesome, all-American, girl-next-door
I jerked off some of the most powerful men in the world
My favorites were the ones who just wanted to talk
But they were few and far between
Far more common were the mentally ill, the coke-heads, the alcoholics, the men who wanted to use me for the things their wives and girlfriends refused: talking dirty, anal sex, deep-throating, role play and public humiliation

I was appalled to see how they spent money
On overpriced drinks, meals, hotel rooms and lingerie
I invested in high-heels and lacy underwear
And was exposed to the wide world of fetishes
They all came eventually
I felt so relieved when they did
Because it meant that my burning muscles could rest

The money flow was easy-come, easy-go
I am ashamed to admit that I spent frivolously
Justifying my purchase with the thought,
‘I’ll just jerk-off another man and earn more’

I wanted to give myself the things I had previously been denied, but it turns out that food doesn’t taste good when it is payed for with lies
I only wanted to give hand-jobs
But the men took from me what they wanted
I have a feeling they treat the whole world that way:
As a grounds for them to play and get their way without ever having to say that they are sorry for anything

I am sorry, body, for what I put you through
I am sorry, name, for changing you
Now I try to respect my body, and respect my name
Spiritually gardening everyday, I cultivate inner riches
My efforts bring a much higher yield than any other field
The spiritual realm is the ultimate gem

I Know You

I know you
With your love for women’s bodies and booze
You blast your charm loudly
You walk big and talk proudly
I remember you
We’ve met so many times before
You want to buy me a drink
Which means sleep with me
Which means impregnate me
And leave me to pick up the pieces
At night your drunken demons resurface
Chattering of insecurity and fear
A horrific dialogue that only I hear
But honey, I don’t need to bear your load
I’ve got enough to carry on my own
So don’t put it on me

I know you
Bestowing me with bottles of wine and hotel rooms
you even insist on opening doors for me
Yet the only thing you don’t give me is the one thing I want from you,                                            if you were to ask, or to listen:

Respect in the form of safe sex,                                                                                                      which is the only sustainable great sex
I will think of you with bitter regret
When I get tested for HIV, long months from now

You are there to bed me, to liquor me up and strip me down
But you are not there
When I am spending time, money, sweat, blood and tears
On emergency contraception, pregnancy and STD tests

Thank you for making it easy to move on                                                                                      Until we meet again                                                                                                                                     I hope to recognize you then                                                                                                               I know you


I will break your heart, darling
I will break your heart
It’s already started, darling
So we better part

I know that when you look at me
You’re damn sure you see
A future where I suture your wounded life
Nothing could be further from the truth, darling
I will only bring you strife

Baby, mark my words
You better turn and run soon
Because all I bring is pain
Try to win me over
And you’ll just torment your brain

I’m no cure for what ails you
I won’t even keep you warm at night
Darling, I tried to warn you
I can’t even begin to tell you
How wrong you are til we’re through
And your heart is black and blue
You’ll be bleeding on the floor
As I’m sweeping you out my door
And yet, you’ll be blinded by my light

I’m sorry to give you a false impression
I’ve been known to induce depression
Right now you can’t get enough
But baby, I’m not the good stuff
I’m just a girl whose grown tough in this old world

You think an angel fell upon ya
But baby, that’s not the case
Bless you child, I’m too wild
Keep your faith cuz
You’ll curse the day I ever looked your way
Mark my words, that’s what all my exes say

I’ve got a real long habit
Try as I might to nab it
Of letting people see what they want in me
I’m learning to tap the breaks on
This heartbreak train I’ve rode long
And so I sing this song to you

I will break your heart, darling
I will break your heart
It’s already started, darling
Though I try to stop

My love will wreck you slowly, darling
Surely as the sun does rise
You believe my lies, darling
Because you want them to be true
But this is only truth I’ll ever tell you:

I will break your heart